The Next Marauder
by daughter of lightning
Summary: James Potter the Second has issues being the son of the famous Harry Potter, it's the start of his fifth year and he's just stolen the Marauder's Map. So far this is just a oneshot, but if you like it and want to know more, let me know and I'll keep writing!


A/N: I'm working on writing a James Sirius story, until I've worked out exactly what I want to write, I'll write a few oneshots centering him to work out his character kinks. I've set this up so it could continue into other stories; so for now, it's an oneshot, but will very probably continue into other chapters. Set in James' 5th year. Enjoy!

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The Next Marauder

Yet again he'd been expected to know the answer in Defense Against the Dark Arts. What did they all think? That just because he was the famous Harry Potter's son that he knew how to fight off every dark creature?

How was he at fifteen years old supposed to produce a corporeal—fully bodied—patronus? Oh, but of course, if his marvelous father could do it at thirteen than he was behind the curve.

"James!" Hugo was running up behind him, sometimes it was a pain going to the same school as all his cousins. "James! Wait up!"

Sighing, he stopped, plastered a fake smile across his face and turned to face one of the new Gryffindor. "What is it Hugo? I'm on my way to lunch."

"Oh," Hugo's face fell and James felt badly for hurting his feelings, "I was only wondering when Quidditch tryouts were going to be."

That's right, James had been made Quidditch captain, younger than either his mother or father, thank you very much! "It's only the first day of school, I haven't set a date yet." He reached out, putting a hand on the shorter boys shoulder, "I'll let you know when I do, but maybe you want to go for a few practice rounds with Fred or Molly before then. No offense mate, but you're not the most secure on a broom and I'd like to see you have a chance. First years usually don't make the team though."

"I know," he looked up, more hopeful, "but you did, right?"

"Yeah, I did but," he trailed off. "Let's get some lunch, shall we?"

It was still strange walking into the Great Hall and not being with all his cousins, at his grandparents' house they all sat outside together everyone from the youngest up to Victoire and usually Teddy. Now it was odd because Rose and Al sat at the Slytherin table, Dominique and Lucy at the Ravenclaw, and the rest of them were at Gryffindor. _Well_, he thought, _at least none of us are in Hufflepuff. Merlin, that would be embarrassing._

Instead he sat down next to Michael Finnigan, his best mate and elbowed him in the ribs. "Move over, Liv's going to meet us."

"You got it then?" Michael asked excited.

"Knicked it right out of his desk before we left, said I'd forgotten my broom servicing kit and had to run back inside while they all waited in the car." From the inside pocket of his cloak he withdrew a weathered and torn folded bit of parchment.

"And does it really show the entire castle?"

"If Uncle George wasn't lying about that bit it should."

"When are we going to test it out?" A girls' voice asked from behind him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

She dropped her bag at her feet and snatched the Maurader's Map out of her boyfriend's hands.

"Tonight, if you're up for it," he grinned wickedly, knowing his girlfriend and best friend were often more mischievous than he was. "Got to live up to my name, haven't I?"

"Ha!" Liv laughed, "Potter? Shouldn't you be out fighting the monsters in the Dark Forest then?"

"Nah," Michael contradicted, then continued conspiratorially in his thick Irish accent, "He means James Potter and Sirius Black, 'cording to legend, they were the biggest pranksters to roam the halls of Hogwarts, and _that's_ including the Weasley twins."

"Which one had the twin again?" Liv asked.

"Uncle George, Fred and Roxanne's dad. That's who Fred's named after," James answered.

"I don't understand why you make it your life's goal to get into as much trouble as possible," Sam said sitting down on the other side of Michael, her prefect badge catching the light as she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.. "They're going to kick you out one of these days."

"I'd love it if they did. Maybe then I'd be known as more than just a 'Potter.'"

"Do you really hate your dad so much, James?" She asked.

"Sam, you don't get it. I love my mum and dad, honestly. Best parents in the world! I just don't love how everyone treats me because of it. I'm no different, no more talented or knowledgeable or anything. It's not like I got told bedtime stories of the war. It's worse though because it's not just my dad, Mary Thomas—that third year girl—asked me for my mum's autograph!" He threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Well, don't we all feel bad for you now," Sam said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Poor deprived Potter, good parents, captain of the Quidditch team, unable to be kicked out. You've really got a rough life, haven't you?"

"Shut up," he said, but they all laughed nonetheless. Michael, Liv, and Sam were his best friends, only Michael's father had been in the same year as his own and they'd been friends since they were kids.

Owls flooded the Great Hall as the afternoon post arrived delivering forgotten schoolbooks and other items and letters from home. His father had never explained why, but they had always had snowy owls in their house, James' own owl was a snowy white owl named Loki, after the Nors god of mischief.

He landed in front of James, almost knocking over his pumpkin juice carrying a small package and three letters addressed in his mother's neat handwriting.

"I better go give this to my sister," James said, holding up the small package, which he knew would contain a necklace with a Gryffindor pendant on it.

"Lilly!" He shouted down the table, getting up and grabbing his bag. "Mum's sent you a package." He tossed it to here where she sat with the other first year girls. She caught it with the easy grace that comes from having two Quidditch players for parents. Honestly it was more likely that she'd make the team than clumsy Hugo.

"Thanks James!" She called back as he walked away; he looked down and realized that he was still holding a letter addressed to her. Turning on his heels he walked back, and handed her the letter.

"You're coming to Quidditch tryouts?"

"No." She sounded angry, what would his eleven-year-old sister have to be angry about?

"No?"

"No," she tore open the letter.

"You don't even know when they are."

"I don't care when they are."

"Come on Lilly, you're joking."

"I have no interest in playing for the house team, James," sometimes she could be so stubborn.

"Fine," he said, acting as casual as possible, "First years usually don't make the team anyway."

"You did."

"Yeah, but I'm me, aren't I?"

"You're not going to get me to do it. I don't like playing," she sounded completely serious. How could she not like the only sport played on brooms?

"You're good though."

"That's your thing," she turned away, "And Mum and Dad's. I want to find my own thing." James knew that her views on this were probably his fault since he'd spend so much time the past four years complaining about wanting to do his own thing. But honestly, it was Quidditch, Playing with his parents were some of the best memories of his childhood, and he still loved flying with them on school holidays. Nothing beat the swooping feeling he got in his stomach when he dove for the snitch.

"We'll talk about it later," he noticed Al walking out into the entrance hall and hurried to catch him before his next class.

They met a few feet outside the transfiguration classroom, "Mum's sent you a letter," he handed over the note to his younger brother.

"Why'd she send it to you?" He pealed it open, reading quickly and smiling.

"Because Loki's my owl, and probably because you're scared of him."

"Am not- he's crazy. Anyway, you opened your note? You're not going to like it?"

"Why?" James snatched Albus' letter out of his hands. Reading quickly his face paled. "Dad's coming?"

"He comes at least once a year, you knew this was coming."

"Yeah, but never this early in the term. Damn, this changes everything."

"What could it possibly change? You can't have had time to set something up already."

"I have to, doesn't matter now though." Al shook his head and went into the classroom to sit with his fellow Slytherins.

Walking to his own class, charms, he ripped open his own letter from their mother.

James,

I know you're going to be upset by this, but your father is coming for his annual visit to speak with the Defense classes. I'm not sure why it's so early in the term, but please remember to be respectful. I hope your term is off to a good start and that Liv, Michael and Sam are good. If you wish, you should invite them to stay for part of the Christmas holidays. Your sister will probably take a little while to adjust to life at Hogwarts, but you are such a good older brother to her that I know you will make sure she's settling in fine. Be nice to your brother, and keep an eye out for Hugo. Aunt Hermione's going mad with worry over him—but when is she not?

James could practically hear the smile in his mother's voice, like she was joking with her face-to-face. He didn't care if it made him sound like a child, he did miss his mum when he was at school.

Remember, we love you so much and are so proud of everything you've accomplished. Congratulations again on getting Quidditch captain!

Teddy says hello and to write him when your first Hogsmeed weekend is if you want to meet up with him.

Tell Nevelle hello from us,

All our love,

Mum and Dad

Turning it over he found a postscript from his father:

P.S. always make sure to wipe the map clean, or else anyone can read it, use it wisely

-mischief managed


End file.
